


Shave and a Haircut

by summerofspock



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, POV Outsider, The Aziraphale Barber Fic No One Asked For
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Sometimes you just have to talk to someone and sometimes that person is your barber.What it says on the tin.





	Shave and a Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted an aziraphale's barber fic so bad and sometimes when you want something done you have to do it yourself!
> 
> enjoy!

It was immediately clear to John the first time Mr. Fell walked into his shop, sighing dramatically and running his well-manicured hands through his white curls, that he was a man who loved his creature comforts.

“Ah, my dear boy,” the man said, eyes alighting on John where he was leaned against his counter.

John raised his eyebrows. _Boy?_ He was older than the man in front of him by at least a dozen years.

“Are you the owner of this establishment? I’m in dire need of a haircut and well, my usual man is out. You see his wife had a baby – oh what a darling thing. They named her Katrina after her aunt–”

The man continued to speak and John became certain he would need to interrupt if he wanted the flow of words to stop any time soon. “Yes. My shop. Haircut?”

John had never been one to use more words than strictly necessary. It had served him well so far and, in this instance, it did the trick by shutting up the nattering man in front of him.

“Oh, yes please. It’s getting rather unwieldy.”

John couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth at the man’s earnest distress. He gestured for him to sit and lean back into the sink for a shampoo.

When John’s hands went into the man’s hair it slipped through his fingers like fine silk. He scrubbed his scalp, developing a good lather.

“That’s very nice,” the man said on a light sigh. John continued to massage his scalp for a few moments before moving on to a rinse.

“The weather today is quite atrocious. I only left my shop because I’ve got plans later today and I wanted to look my best.”

“Date?” John asked.

The man turned slightly pink, the color emphasized by his nearly white hair. “Oh, erm…”

“Didn’t mean to pry.”

“No,” the man rushed to say. “That’s all right. I suppose I _wish_ it could be a date but unfortunately, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

Something in John unspooled and he felt himself relax. It was always nice to know when his clients were gay. It made it less like for them to storm out in a homophobic rage when they asked after his wife and he had to correct them with “husband.”

John ran a towel over the man’s hair to dry it. John left him for a moment with his hair still wrapped to get his trimmers but the man sat up abruptly, the slightly wet towel falling into his lap. “My goodness, I’ve been unspeakably rude. I’m Azira Fell. It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry. I was feeling flustered, you see.”

John waved off his somewhat manic concern. “’S fine. I’m John.”

“That’s very gracious of you, John. It’s nice to meet you.”

John dried off his hands on his own towel and looked down at his straight razor. “Perhaps a shave is in order?”

Mr. Fell made a little noise of excitement. “I haven’t shaved with a straight razor in years. That would be delightful.”

“Nothing like a shave to make you feel more confident.”

“I dare say you’re right. A shave is just the ticket.” Mr. Fell settled back into the chair and then pursed his lips. “Not that he’d notice. I could dye my hair pink and it would be business as usual.”

John combed the hair back from his head, placing the lock of hair between his finger and the comb before cutting it. “Not that I want it pink, you know,” Mr. Fell clarified.

“Didn’t think you did,” John said, getting to work on the hair. “It wouldn’t be your color anyway.”

The man under his hands giggled and John smiled in turn. Something about the man’s joy was infectious, like the whole shop was brighter, more _loved_.

The energy made John feel almost like… _sharing_.

“You know,” he began, nearly tripping over his tongue as the words came out of his mouth. _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ “I met my husband in high school. He came into band class, ran right into the brass section, knocked over all the chairs and the trombonist, and then came up laughing and I remember thinking: wow this is it, isn’t it?”

“Love at first sight? That’s very romantic,” Mr. Fell said, his voice a happy hum.

John continued his work through his curls as he replied, “For me. Not so much for him. We got all the way through high school together just being friends. I’d convinced myself that that was all I wanted and that it was enough, but then we went to college. According to him, he realized he loved me after waking up on my couch after a long party and I was passed out across from him, snoring like anything.”

“And then you got together?”

John snorted. “Hardly. We were both set to graduate. Best of friends by then see. And finally, I said to myself, Ok, now or never, you’re going to go off into the world and maybe never see him again, you have to tell him. So I did. And now we’re married. Things work out sometimes.”

Mr. Fell hummed as if he’d never thought of it that way. John finished his haircut and shave in the silence of the shop and sent the man on his way, certainly expecting to never see him again. After all, he had his own regular barber who was bound to come back to work eventually.

**

John was finishing Mr. Keller’s bimonthly beard trim when he heard the tinkle of the shop bell and a warmth spread through his body. He felt peaceful. Even knuckle deep in Keller’s red beard.

He turned to the new customer and felt a smile erupt across his face. “Mr. Fell, welcome back.”

What was it about Mr. Fell that made him feel friendly? Peter would make fun of him if he saw him now.

“Hello, John,” Mr. Fell said warmly. “I’ll just wait here, shall I?”

“Just wrapping up,” John said.

After he’d taken Keller’s payment, he gestured for Mr. Fell to take a seat in the chair. “How are you?” John asked, surprising himself.

Mr. Fell emitted a long breath and that breath contained multitudes. “I have been better, John.”

“Things with your friend not going well?”

“That? Oh that’s more of the same. It’s actually, erm, work.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I own a bookshop but I sort of freelance on the side? Family business.”

The man sounded like he didn’t even know what he did. John ran a towel over his water slick hair and sat him back up in the chair.

“Sorry to hear it. Same as last time?”

Mr. Fell looked up at him in confusion and then realization dawned. “Oh yes! I quite liked the shave.”

“I’ve bought some new aftershaves. Would you like to choose one?”

“Why don’t you surprise me?”

John got to work and after a few moments, Mr. Fell asked, “How’s Peter?”

For the life of him, John couldn’t remember telling Mr. Fell his husband’s name.

**

John was stretched out across his sofa with his head in Peter’s lap as they watched the news.

“A kraken?” John said incredulously. “Must be some sort of mistake.”

“I hope so,” Peter said, hands stilling where they had been threading through his hair. “Sounds far too apocalypse-y for me.”

**

Mr. Fell didn’t come in that month but he did come in the following month, looking especially radiant, if a little tired.

“John! I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to this haircut.”

As Mr. Fell settled into the chair, John said, “I take it things worked out with your family?”

Mr. Fell’s face screwed up in consternation and then forcefully smoothed out. “Yes! In fact, I left the business. It’s been delightful. Having so much time to myself.”

John nodded. He was glad for it.

Just as he was finishing styling Mr. Fell’s hair, the bell tinkled on the door and a lanky man with bright red hair and sunglasses wandered inside. “Angel, are you ready? I’ve just finished the shopping.”

The man held up a bag in his hand, celery sticking out the top. Mr. Fell grew impossibly brighter under John’s hands.

“I just have to pay, my dear. Please be patient.”

The lanky man gave an irritated groan and collapsed in the chair by the door, tapping his foot. “You’re being childish, Crowley,” Mr. Fell admonished.

The man grumbled from the chair but didn’t say anything.

Mr. Fell paid him for his services and left the shop with a brief, “Toodles.”

John watched as the two men crossed the streets, hands intertwined, and smiled to himself.

Sometimes things really did work out. 


End file.
